


Loose Ends

by SheenaMoriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheenaMoriarty/pseuds/SheenaMoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're traveling by yourself in the seemingly-picturesque city of London--but when you see something that you shouldn't have, a man in a suit comes to take you away...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Ends

There's a camera in your hand when it happens.

In front of you is a large, impressive marble fountain in the middle of Trafalgar Square. It's raining quite hard, and no one else is taking pictures of it, no one else is admiring its calm beauty, but there's something that draws you in. Maybe it was the fact that you're an American, and fountains are nowhere near this beautiful in the United States, or maybe it's the notion that the way the sunlight reflects off of the rushing water of both the rain and the fountain would make a lovely picture, a nice piece of evidence to say, "Hey, look--I was at this park thing in London, and it was pretty. Yes, Dad, I have enough clothes. No, Mom, I don't have a boyfriend."

It's at this moment, one eye pressed against the camera, the other eye squeezed shut, a finger hovering over the button, that you hear a scream. Long, male, and wretched.

You whirl around, dropping the camera as you spot the source of the noise.

The only other person in the park was a security guard, who is now lying on the ground, his head surrounded by a thin, watery halo of blood.

Just as the camera falls to the ground with a loud, expensive-sounding crash, you let out a scream of your own--shorter, but a lot louder, a lot more hysterical. You can't look away from the dead guard, but you take a few steps back, ready to run for help, when you see a spot of red out of the corner of your eye. Looking down, you find your Union Jack tank top covered in red dots, like those from a laser pointer--or a sniper's gun.

That scream, you realize with a terrified gasp, was quite possibly the most idiotic thing you'd ever done.

"Settle down, boys!" a voice shouts, echoing over the empty square like a gunshot--a silky, Irish gunshot that sends goosebumps up and down your arms. You look towards the voice, your eyes falling upon a man in a fine-tailored suit, rain making his dark hair drip down his face. He's grinning at you, a malicious grin that makes you want to run, but you're frightened that if you so much as move your hand, one of the snipers will shoot you.

As if reading your thoughts, he takes a few steps closer to you as he says, "It's alright, darling, you can move. They won't shoot you unless I tell them to, and I would never want to do that." His last words are dripping with sarcasm, but there's a hint of sincerity there--or is there? It's so hard to tell, with this stranger in the rain. He takes one step closer before adding, "I'd advise against running, though. That might just change my mind."

He expects you to respond, you can tell that much, but you don't say anything, just watch him come closer and closer, until he's a yard away from you and you finally find your voice again. "I...I...what's going on?" you ask softly, unsure if he can even hear you. "Who...who are you?"

He laughs at your question, which only makes you more nervous. What have you said to amuse him, when you're so scared? "Names aren't important, sweetheart--but you can call me Jim, if you must," he says. He's close enough to touch you now, but he doesn't, just lets the distance linger for as long as he possibly can. It's as if he's sizing you up, determining everything he can about you before he makes the kill. "I am terribly sorry that you had to see that, but I owed a friend a favor." He shrugs, his smile fading as his eyes look you up and down. "What's your name, darling?"

You don't trust him, of course you don't--murdering a security guard and sending a whole troop of snipers after you doesn't make for a very good first impression. "You said...names weren't important," you breathe.

His smile returns at that, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous excitement. "Clever girl," he says. He's much, much closer now--you hadn't even paid attention to his footsteps, just watched how he reacted to that last, admittedly brash comment, but he's now so close that you can smell his cologne. His eyebrows raise, staring at you with a mysterious intent. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

It's then that you realize--you're a witness to a crime. You don't know much about this Jim person, but the look in his eyes, the one that sends a chill of fear and anticipation up your spine, tells you that he doesn't want to leave any loose ends behind, and you're very much a loose end.

"I...I won't tell anyone," you say softly, looking down so as to avoid meeting his gaze, noticing that the snipers are still targeting you, prompting another gasp. "I'll run home, I'll never come back here again, and I won't tell anyone about what I saw."

There's silence. You almost look up, to see what's keeping him from responding, when you hear him take a slow, deep breath. "Oh, you know I can't risk that, darling," he says with a soft laugh.

You just look up when he reaches out, quickly and silently, like the serpent he is, and grabs your arm, pulling you towards him, laughing as your eyes grow wide and a frightened gasp makes its way out. You're so close to him that the soft material of his suit jacket rubs against your arm, and you panic. "I promise, I won't tell," you say, your words growing faster and more high-pitched as you go on. "You don't have to kill me, I swear to God, I won't--"

"Who said anything about killing you?" he asks, moving his head slightly, so that his lips are right against your ear and only you can hear what he has to say. You try to move away from him, but his hand tightens around your arm, his manicured fingernails digging into your skin. "No, no, I'm enjoying your company far too much to kill you--but I know a lie when I hear one, sweetheart." He lets out a breath as he thinks, a soft, warm rush of air blowing against your face, sending a nervous shudder up and down your body. "No, I think it's best that you stay with me for a little while."

You glance sideways to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his words begin to sink it. No, this is insane--are you being kidnapped? "I...you can't," you whisper, no longer fighting against him, partly from knowing that it's useless and partly from wanting to see what he'll do next. "People would notice. I've got a family back home, I've got friends--people will realize that you've taken me."

You close your eyes as he laughs, letting out a breath as a shiver runs up and down your body, the dark yet lilting laugh spilling into your ear like honey--black, poisoned honey. "I don't think you understand," he murmurs. "I'm very good at what I do, darling."

"And...and what is it that you do?" you ask, your heart beating so fast and loud that you're sure he can hear it. "Kidnap and murder people, is that it?"

There's more silence, and for a moment, you think that he'll say no, that your words have changed his mind and he'll let you go. "Mm...pretty much, yeah," he whispers instead. Then, in a flash, he claps his free hand over your mouth and begins leading you away.

You try to protest, you try so hard to break free of his grip, you try to scream loud enough that someone will hear you, but his hands are too strong, and he's not about to let his loose end blow away. At one point, you also realize that it's no use--in the end, you'll never be able to escape from him--and although it sounds very strange, especially considering how terrified you are of what this man might do to you, a small part of you wants it. You try to silence these thoughts, for they almost scare you more than the situation at hand, but somehow, somewhere in the back of your mind, there's a sense of excitement. It disgusts you that you even consider this, but it's too late to turn back. In fact, it's much, much too late for anything.

You're a loose end, and he's going to tie you off.


End file.
